Like One of Their Own
by Lady Elena Dawson
Summary: After a car accident leaves their best friends' daughter orphaned, Spencer and Toby take her under their wing and raise her like one of their own.


It was a day like any other when Spencer got the call.

She was washing the dishes while Toby was cleaning the table as their four-year-old son Keenan ran around their feet when the phone rang and Spencer answered it, despite her hands being sopping wet.

The dish she was holding went crashing to the ground, smashing into little pieces that Keenan wanted to touch but Spencer had picked him up and cried over him while telling Toby the news.

Neither of them explained anything to Keenan as they rushed out of the house and strapped the inquisitive boy into the backseat (there was no time to call the babysitter) without another thought and drove ten miles per hour over the speed limit to the morbid sight.

The police saw Spencer jump out of the car before Toby fully stopped, and they halted her from going further in order to warn her. "We need someone to identify them, ma'am, and you were the first on their emergency call list. Their parents are on the way, too."

"No!" Spencer cried out before he could say any more. "I don't want their parents to see this. I-I don't even want to see this." Her voice shook as she breathed in, and Toby tried to hold her while also holding Keenan. Her eyes traveled over to the two bashed-in cars, police snapping pictures of the accident with flashing lights. "Is it…everyone?"

The man looked down at his notepad and said, "A little girl was just rushed to the hospital. She was the only one that made it."

Spencer's heart jumped into her throat. "Was she around four-years-old with thick, dark, curly hair?"

The man nodded and Spencer cried even more.

As uneasy as he felt about the entire incident, Toby volunteered to identify the dead, and Spencer squeezed Keenan in her arms and sobbed into his hair. When Toby returned a minute later, there was a glint of hope in Spencer's large, brown eyes, a pleading that none of this was true. But by his ashen complexion, Spencer's world came crashing down. She recognized that silver car with its front crunched up. If she had looked in she would recognize the couple in the front, dark hair and pale skin. Killed on impact, he informed her.

And therefore no suffering except for the living.

…

It was a numb, surreal drive to the hospital. Spencer continued to cling to her little boy, fear clutching her heart after what had happened. They were going to visit an orphan, she thought. One of the sweetest little girls she'd ever known with two of the kindest parents, too. She'd been knocked out but she was fine: and she was waking up alone.

"But not alone," Spencer whispered, her words muffled in Keenan's scalp. Toby glanced curiously at her; he'd been grinding his teeth the entire ride, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, silent, stoic tears sliding down his cheeks. "Did you say something, Spence?"

Spencer looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and began crying again. "I'm just thinking about Daisy," she sobbed. "And what's left for her. I'm sure—" She hiccupped. "—her grandparents will fight for custody."

"Leave that for later, Spence. Let her regain her health first." Toby attempted to reassure her, but his voice cracked, and instead he took one hand off the wheel and reached for hers.

A minute of silence passed and Keenan dozed off. Suddenly, Spencer's grip on Toby's hand tightened, and she told him, with endless tears streaking down her cheeks, "She'll never be alone, Toby. Not as long as she has us."

And she held her son gratefully closer and tried to banish the memories of her friends out of her mind.

…

At the hospital Spencer and Toby stood over the little girl's bed, waiting for her to wake up. The doctors said she should be conscious any minute and Spencer wanted her to be the first person she saw when she woke up, to remind the four-year-old that she wasn't alone, not at all.

The dark haired girl's eyelashes fluttered and she regained consciousness, her ocean-blue orbs meeting Spencer's and instantly filling with tears. "Mommy, Daddy—"

"Shhh," Spencer shushed the already panicking child, sitting down next to her. "You're going to be fine."

Daisy blinked and ran her tiny hand over the IV in her arm and started crying. "I remember Mommy laughing at something Daddy had said," she sobbed, "and then there was a flash of light and I don't remember!" She continued to release her pent-up emotions before muttering, "W-where are they?"

Spencer said nothing and only stared at the crumbling girl. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her goddaughter and glanced at Toby behind her shoulder. There was something in her face that told him, _What can I say?_

And Spencer could only comfort her by saying they were in a better place now.

…

A couple days later Spencer, Toby, Aria's parents, and Ezra's mom stood huddled in a law office, impatiently waiting for the person who would read the wills of the deceased. Spencer and Toby sat tensely in the only two chairs in the room as Byron, Ella, and Dianne hashed it out. Something about whose fault it was, they were arguing about. But neither of the two could say that it was Spencer and Toby's house the family was driving to, for a double family vacation to a shared cabin that they took every year. And yet none of the raging parents put the blame on Spencer and Toby.

Finally the lawyer came in and everyone settled down, but only barely. The wills began with a splitting of the assets and et cetera. Then came the part of custody, and everyone became deadly silent because everyone wanted a part of Daisy Charlotte Fitz.

"In case of serious circumstances such as death, imprisonment, et cetera of both parents, custody of the child or children is put in the hands of Toby Frank Cavanaugh and Spencer Jill Hastings-Cavanaugh." Spencer's eyes widened and she had to sneak a peek at the documents in front of the lawyer, seeing in neat, flowing handwriting the signatures of Aria Marie Montgomery and Ezra Michael Fitz. It was legitimate.

There was a shock in the room that left the grandparents in a silent outrage. "That's our daughter's only child—," Ella began to argue while Dianne shouted, "My son would want his only daughter to be in stable hands, and—"

The lawyer put her hand up and silenced them all. "I am only reading what is written. These are their last wishes and you will follow them. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, it is your right to accept or deny custody. As of now Daisy is in your legal care, but you can pass it off to anyone if you would like."

Their mouths still agape, Spencer and Toby looked at each other and didn't need to say any words. "It is without a question," Spencer replied smoothly, though her heart was pounding inside, "that we will raise Daisy like she is our own daughter."

…

The next day Spencer was doing the dishes when the next call rang in, and it wasn't about Daisy.

Toby's face was colorless when he set down the phone and collapsed into a chair. Cautiously Spencer set a plate down and turned around, concerned and frightened. "What was it?" she asked hesitantly.

"It was the doctor," Toby explained, rubbing his throbbing forehead. "The autopsies were finished, and…" He gulped, wanting to vomit. "There was a baby, three months old, a boy… But she wasn't far along enough and they couldn't save it or anything."

Spencer went dizzy and she held onto the countertop to steady herself, and she put a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Aria was telling me she had exciting news. I-I…I had no idea." A moment later she turned back around and continued with the dishes, her mind whirring and taking her back to the last conversation she had with Aria, about some surprise.

But at least that baby wouldn't have to grow up an orphan. He was lucky, she guessed, while the rest of them were all traumatized. Three months in the womb wasn't enough to save him. Defenseless, useless, miniscule. Yet time would move forward without him, refusing him the ability to live a full life.

…

Bringing Daisy home from the hospital was probably the worst day of Spencer's life, possibly because it was the first time and only time she'd ever had to take care of a little girl that wasn't hers because her parents had died.

The entire car ride she was freaking out, imagining how badly she was going to mess up raising someone else's four-year-old. But then she reminded that this was her best friend's four-year-old and she bucked up, stood up straighter, and rode the rest of the way with some confidence.

Forcing on a smile, she turned around in her seat at Daisy, who looked sullen in her fluffy fall jacket and bruise around her eye. "So, Daisy, are you excited to have a sleepover with Keenan?"

Daisy's little nose twitched and she looked down at her lap. "I'm never going back to my room, am I?"

Spencer bit her lip and glanced at a just-as-concerned Toby. "We have your stuff," she told the little girl. "Your bed, your stuffed animals, your coloring books…"

"You'll just have to share a room with Keenan for a little while," Toby added, and Daisy sulked, but not because she didn't like Keenan.

"So my room is gone?"

Sometimes Spencer forgot just how well Daisy understood things; she never seemed to be oblivious or confused. "Well, no…," she muttered. "You see, your parents' possessions were split up amongst their families, and your home was sold a couple days ago." Toby sent her a look that said _Why are you explaining this to her? _and Spencer clamped her mouth shut, but not before quickly adding, "Not that any of that belongs to you. We have everything of yours in a storage unit just waiting to go in your new home."

Daisy just blinked at Spencer and held her stuffed pig closer to her chest, hugging it and squeezing its cotton-filled belly into her hurting face. She rubbed the locket around her neck with her tiny, delicate fingers. There was a scratch on her pinky and some dried paint lodged under her middle finger from the same day the crash happened, when her mother had been painting a barn scene with her. She'd missed a spot when they were washing their hands and getting ready to leave on their annual cabin vacation with her god-family. She continued to hold the locket in her hands, shutting her eyes and picturing what was inside it. But she didn't open it. She couldn't.

For a child so young, Spencer could see how much Daisy understood of what had happened. And she felt like she'd already screwed up.

…

At dinner that night the now-four-person family sat around a table and ate Chinese takeout. Keenan jabbered on about his day with his grandparents (Spencer had called her parents and asked them to help her for a little bit while her life made possibly its largest transition), not really affected by everything that had happened. He was just happy that he could have endless playdates with Daisy, his best friend, and though he didn't know much of what happened, he didn't ask questions.

As Keenan told a story about how Mr. Hastings had gotten lost on their way to the zoo, Spencer gazed over at Daisy and frowned. She hadn't lifted her hands from her lap, her arms still squeezed around her stuffed animal; her plate sat untouched and cold. Once Keenan finished his story and Toby commented on how amusing it was, Spencer spoke, "Daisy, aren't you hungry?"

And Daisy shook her head, pushing the plate forward. Spencer wanted to chew one of her nails, a terrible habit of hers she'd been able to control for the past few years but now was crashing over her like a smoker's desire for nicotine. "Well, you can go watch TV if you want." And so Daisy left the table and dragged herself to the couch, turning on the TV and watching some old kids' show despite missing most of the episode.

Spencer dismissed Keenan too and stabbed her fork on her plate, her eyes directed at Toby and brimming with tears. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she whispered in order for the kids not to hear her. "I didn't think she'd understand so much of what happened."

"She understands that her parents are gone," Toby responded. "That's enough for us to understand her behavior. But it didn't seem like she knew what was happening when her grandparents were arguing at her hospital bed about custody."

"Still pissed it was us, I see." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead in her hands. "I guess I'd be angry, too, to not have whatever's left of my child."

"At least Byron and Ella were able to talk to us near the end. Dianne just waved everyone away and left." He pulled out his phone and opened a new text message. "Speaking of which, we agreed we'd let them take Daisy on certain weeks. Should we set up that schedule now?"

Her brain thudded as she watched Keenan happily chat up Daisy while they watched the TV, half of Daisy's face snuggled into her stuffed toy. "Can we please just survive this week first?" Spencer requested tiredly. "It's enough anxiety for me and you to just look at Daisy and be reminded of everything that happened by her black eye. Do you think they told her about the baby?"

Toby shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe they were planning on telling all of us at the cabin."

Spencer sighed in hopeful relief. "I hope she doesn't know," she said. "It's too much pain already."

…

A week passed rapidly, and Daisy tugged on Toby's shirt hem. "Uncle Toby, when will I get my own room?" she inquired politely, though there was a hint of a whine in her voice.

"Let me tell you what, Daisy," he told her and bent down to her level on his knees. "I'll build you your own room, and you can have it painted and set up however you want. Would you like that?"

Though there wasn't a smile on her face, Toby could read a generous twitch in her lips. His eye caught the light ring around her eye, the bruise still healing. She was pale and her eyes a dark, deep blue, though the other day it had looked like ice.

"Thank you," she replied simply and walked away.

…

A funeral had taken place a week after the accident but nobody liked to be reminded of it. Spencer felt queasy remembering that Daisy had stayed near the coffins the entire time, whispering like she was having one last conversation with them. She felt sick remembering Ella sitting next to Daisy with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "These are such nice flowers," she'd sobbed, and sat there near her granddaughter for the whole service before leaving it, abandoned, on the floor. She felt nauseous remembering her clipped conversations with Mike, and Byron, and even Dianne (she had never thought that woman had any heart until that day). She hated remembering how lost and broken everyone looked.

Hanna and Emily had been there, had tried to coax Daisy away to eat something, but had only prompted her to hide farther behind the table. The orphan popped up behind the set-up pictures and set them all down face-first where they were for the same reason she couldn't look inside her locket.

Eventually everyone left and it still hadn't felt like anyone had any resolution. Spencer knew she didn't. It took her and Toby fifteen minutes to convince Daisy that it was time to leave, and even when she came out she refused to hold Spencer's hand. The child kept glancing back at what she was leaving behind, and finally it dawned on her that she had a new family, and so she reached up and grabbed Spencer's hand, submitting to her new mother's wishes.

The progressive moment only lasted a minute before she pulled away again. Spencer had thought they were getting somewhere but nothing like that had happened since. Instead it was just a sad girl, a mourning orphan, another presence in Spencer's house that refused to eat and play or anything.

It was certainly not the Daisy Spencer knew anymore.

…

It took a month before Daisy let her new parents in.

It was a Friday night and Spencer and Toby had just tucked Daisy in when she stopped them, requesting a story. "Mommy and Daddy would tell me a bedtime story every night," she explained. "About dragons and adventures and sword-fighting princesses."

Spencer and Toby gave each other a look and agreed without words. "Of course," Spencer said and went to look at the bookshelf.

"No!" Daisy exclaimed. "They would make up the story and tell it together."

"Oh." Spencer blinked, mouth open though no words came out, and Toby ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Well, sweetie, I don't know… We're not that—"

Daisy's shoulders sunk in disappointment and she tucked herself back into bed. "It's okay, Aunt Spencer." A sigh. "Good night."

Hesitant, Spencer stood still in her spot. She would play impromptu games with Keenan and his toys, but whenever it came to story time, they would just read from a children's book. She wasn't Aria or Ezra and she couldn't expect herself to be the creative masterminds they were. What if her story sucked compared to theirs and Daisy hated them forever? Extreme, yes, but the girl was so stubborn she wouldn't be surprised if she held that grudge for awful storytelling.

Toby swooped down to rescue them all from the awkward moment. "Once upon a time there was a gigantic dragon with green, slimy scales and smelly cheese breath," he announced dramatically, and Daisy sat up in a millisecond and clapped her hands, giggling at the start of the story. "Ew!" she squealed. "Why cheese breath, Uncle Toby?"

"Because this dragon was a collector of the finest cheeses in the land, and sometimes he would eat some that's over three-hundred-years old." As Daisy laughed some more, Toby looked up at Spencer and waved her over. "Come on, Spence. Tell us more about this dragon."

Gulping, Spencer put a reluctant smile on her face and hid her nerves to her best ability. She knew she could sometimes become too technical and have to remind herself to stoop down to a child's level and mimic that kind of language. "Well, he had giant spikes on his back made of rare emeralds," she quaked. "And if someone could take these emeralds from his back, they will not only save the land by killing this terrible beast, but also have riches for years to come."

"And so our story begins," Toby went on, reaching out to hold Spencer's hand, "with the fairest princess in the land, also the most skilled girl in battle in the land…"

Daisy watched them with wide, twinkling eyes of excitement, clutching her plush pig in a different way than she had been for a long time. Everything was fine, Spencer reminded herself. They would all be fine.

…

But the happiness after that didn't always last.

It was Daisy's fifth birthday and Spencer couldn't make her smile for anything. Even Keenan, who was able to bring some laughter into Daisy's life, couldn't even make the corner of her mouth twitch. She poked at the slice of cake on her plate without eating it, and kept shaking off the birthday hat on her head.

"You'll be starting kindergarten soon." It was Spencer's attempt to get Daisy excited for something on her special day. It had been frustrating, for Spencer, at least, to juggle work, home, and taking care of two kids of the same age, and Daisy had been frustrated herself with learning to read. Apparently Aria and Ezra had taught her the alphabet because she knew how to read some words, but how was Spencer supposed to have the time to teach her what school was meant to teach her? She knew that sounded cynical and unmotherly, but it was true: she just didn't have time to teach life skills at the moment with everything she had to do, especially if that was what school was for.

"Aunt Spencer, what is this word?" Daisy held up a flashcard with "Labrador" written on it. The pack of word cards, which were all animal-related, was found in the multiple boxes of Daisy's things along with easy-to-read picture books, so it was obvious she had been learning to read at home way before other kids even thought about it. "Lab-ray—"

"Lab-rah-dor," Spencer enunciated for her, and picked up the card to show her each syllable. "'Dor' is pronounced like 'door.'" To prove her point, she knocked on the door right next to them.

"Ooh," she replied and traced the card with her finger. "Labrador…" Putting that one aside, she picked up another one. "Kangaroo…"

Spencer couldn't help but sigh when she saw the other packs of word flashcards, with themes like "Food" and "Cities of the World." She watched as Daisy pulled out a Dr. Seuss book that she must have read a million times because the edges were bent and the spine beat up, and she knew that Aria was persistent on buying Daisy new, not used, books. "They'll last longer that way," she had told Spencer, along with a drawn-out explanation on how seeing a book go from new to falling apart was a great memory for a book-lover because it physically showed their love of reading.

That day Spencer decided she needed to be a part of these things with her own children. So she borrowed Daisy's things, sat down with Keenan, and together they began to learn.

Spencer was snapped back into the presently disappointing birthday party. She saw Daisy's bottom lip start to wobble and her eyes get misty. "I miss Mommy and Daddy," she cried, and as she cried Spencer was reminded of everything Daisy had taught her and Toby about her parents' parenting ways: "Mommy and Daddy would do this, and that, and this…" All of it made Spencer's head spin, but she couldn't snap at a four-year-old. The truth was she wasn't Aria, and Toby wasn't Ezra. They raised kids differently, and the high expectations of replacing and mimicking two parents were pressuring to say the least.

And as Spencer watched Toby try to comfort Daisy, she wished those parents were here.

…

"How are we going to tell her?" Spencer asked Toby as they returned home after a doctor's appointment.

"Don't worry about it, Spence," Toby reassured her. "They'll both be so excited to have a little sister."

"I don't know." Spencer was reluctant and anxious. "I'm worried about Daisy."

That night Spencer and Toby cleared the table after dinner and sat down with their two kids in front of them. "Your mother—aunt—and I have some news…"

The reactions went like this: Keenan stood up in his seat and jumped up and down in excitement, Daisy rushed out of her chair and locked herself in her new bedroom Toby had recently built. (He had even let her help him paint the room the color she wanted, a dark purple.)

"Daisy," Spencer pleaded while knocking on the door. "Please let us come in."

"No!" Daisy shouted, kicking the door with her foot. "Go away!"

"We want to know why you're upset, Daisy," Toby spoke up and was answered by a grumpy voice.

"I know what you're trying to do." Daisy sniffled, standing in front of the door with her arms crossed at her chest. "You're trying to replace me!"

Toby and Spencer fell silent, and Spencer leaned her head against the door, the revelation of why Daisy was upset sinking into her. "Sweetie, we would never replace you."

"Then why are you having a girl?" Daisy yelled, sniffling.

"It's not like we could decide, Scout," Toby explained to her, using her childhood nickname. "It's always a surprise."

Finally Daisy peaked out of the door, her eyes watery. "Really?" she whispered.

Spencer got down on her knees and to Daisy's level, brushing a strand of her dark, nearly black hair out of her face. "Really."

"I just thought," Daisy went on, followed by a sniffle and a rub of her nose, "that because I wasn't your real daughter you wanted one of your own."

Spencer pulled Daisy into a hug and ran her fingers through the girl's long, curly hair. "You are as much a daughter to us as this child will be," Spencer pacified her, her eyes also filling with tears. "And you will never be less of our daughter just because we're not your real parents."

The little family, slightly broken, huddled on the floor, held each other, and for the first time in the almost two years Daisy had been there had they felt like a true family.

…

"Mommy and Daddy would let me cook with them!" Daisy piped up, jumping up and down in order to reach the countertop. "Please please _please_, Uncle Toby, let me help you and Aunt Spencer!"

It was true, though. Before the accident Spencer had tried many dishes Aria had deemed had been made with the help of Daisy. "She broke the eggs," she would explain, "and Ezra had to clean out the eggshells, but she helped!"

It was a shock for Spencer when she acknowledged for the first time how much Daisy looked like Aria. She didn't know why she hadn't really noticed it before, but it was like looking at a copy of her. It appeared that the Montgomery genetics really won out.

Just like that, Spencer's heart sank. She'd been so busy with her own family and coping with Daisy's permanent place in their family tree as their daughter that she hadn't thought much on how much she missed Daisy's parents. Aria was her best friend, after all, but a lot of her lived on within Daisy. Daisy was bold, and gregarious, and a little selfish, and true to herself, just like Aria had been. She had no idea if any part of Ezra made it into Daisy, she was so much like her mother.

Daisy knocked a spoon to the ground and picked it up, apologizing. There we go, Spencer thought. There was Ezra, always apologizing. She'd called him out on that plenty, pinching him on the arm whenever he'd apologize for something he shouldn't apologize for or even both apologizing for because they were such close friends. Spencer knew for a fact that Aria would have knocked down that spoon, picked it up, and continued begging to help them cook, because Aria, unlike Ezra, saved her apologies for when they were truly needed.

"Fine." Spencer caved, and heaved Daisy up onto the counter despite her inconveniently protruding belly. "You can mix this."

And Daisy was perfectly content with stirring egg yolks with a whisk, just like her mother had taught her.

…

"She looks pink and gross," Daisy commented as she looked into the crib and wrinkled her nose at the sight of the newborn. "Can I play with her?"

Spencer walked over and picked up Marianne, the newest baby in the house. "She's too young to play with yet, Daisy."

Daisy wrinkled her nose again. "So all she does is eat and poop and cry?"

Laughing, Spencer propped the baby's head on her shoulder. "For right now, yes."

"What's the point then?"

Spencer patted Daisy's head and walked away. "When she's older, Daisy. When she's older."

…

Years passed. Keenan and Daisy played together, played with Mari, taught Mari how to play their games and always got annoyed when she couldn't follow, taught her how to say their names, et cetera. They basically did everything with Marianne before dropping her and doing the same things by themselves because she was still young. But Marianne, though she wasn't always accepted by her siblings, was a happy baby. And for Spencer, that was a pleasant sight to see after their last few stressful years.

In addition, Marianne was blue-eyed (like her brother) and blonde, Spencer couldn't help but point out. Neither she nor Toby could pinpoint where in their family tree someone had been blonde but it was in there somewhere.

Anyway, Spencer could never forget when she was so busy with a case she was working on and taking care of Keenan and the newborn that she'd forgotten to pick up Daisy from her dance and gymnastics class. When she'd gotten to the studio, she'd apologized profusely to the six-year-old who'd been waiting for almost an hour. Ever since then, Spencer and Toby had worked together to balance everything that was going on in each other's lives. If Toby was preoccupied with work, Spencer would promise to pick up Keenan from baseball. If Spencer was struggling with juggling work and kids, Toby would take the kids to the zoo. Again, Daisy told him what her parents would do: her mom would point out the animals, and her dad would mimic what noises that animal made. Then they would all create a background story for that animal and end up giving them dialogue based on what they were doing at that moment. Toby had tried it and it was actually very fun; a new tradition was made.

Now Daisy and Keenan were twelve-years-old while Marianne was six. Keenan came running down from upstairs yelling for Spencer. "Mom, Mom!" he yelled, his floppy hair getting in the way of his blue eyes. Spencer had berated him for not getting it cut but he wanted it long, so she gave up. "Daisy's bleeding!"

Spencer dropped what she was doing and ran upstairs, knocking on the bathroom door. "Daisy, are you all right?" she asked insistently.

"I'm fine!" Daisy screamed as she yanked open the door. Spencer could see that she had changed pants, and noticed that there was bloody underwear on the floor. She'd been crying and her cheeks were flushed as though she was embarrassed. "Just leave me alone!"

"Oh, Daisy," Spencer said, relieved. Keenan noticed that his mother wasn't concerned and tugged on her elbow. "Why are you okay with this? She's _bleeding_!"

Spencer knocked on the door again. "It's okay, sweetie. It's just—"

The door opened again and Daisy glared out. "I know! I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Daisy, I—"

"No! Stop!" It was obvious she was humiliated and didn't want to talk about it at the moment, but Spencer wanted to help, and at least offer her a pad. Then she heard the eight words that hadn't been spoken in years since Daisy was five: "You're not my mom, so leave me alone!"

The door slammed in Spencer's face and she stood there, dumbfounded. Slightly heartbroken, she stepped away from the door and told Keenan to leave his sister alone. "She's only going through a rough change," she explained to him. "Now go check on Mari."

Later Spencer told Toby that Daisy had started her period. "Does that mean…the _talk…_?"

"No, she's smarter than that, and ignorant about it at the same time." Spencer waved him off. "That can wait for now. But Toby… Where did the time go?"

Toby settled back into the pillow and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I can't believe all this puberty stuff is starting already. It seems like they were six only yesterday."

"I'm not sure what approach we should take," Spencer said. "The 'we only tell them what their bodies are doing when absolutely necessary' approach or the 'set them down and teach them from a book everything in one sitting' approach?"

Needless to say, they both decided on the latter to just rip the bandage off and move on.

Before retiring to bed, Spencer knocked on Daisy's door and came in. "I'm sorry about earlier," Daisy mumbled while finishing braiding her dark hair. "I was just upset and scared."

"I understand," Spencer comforted her, sitting next to her. "But it's nothing to be afraid of. It means your body is healthy."

"I know." Daisy looked down at her lap, and when she looked back up her eyes were watery. "Sometimes I just think…what Mom would say…what she'd tell me, how she'd comfort me…"

Again, Spencer's heart sank into her chest. Of course. She hadn't thought about Daisy thinking about her parents at all.

"And ever since I was a kid," she continued to cry, "I've been scared that I will just…forget. Forget what they look like, what their voices sounded like… That all I'll remember is a hand, or a pair of bare feet walking around the kitchen and a voice talking to me about things I can't even remember…"

Spencer had always answered Daisy's questions when it came to her parents. But now, she had nothing to say. She hated to imagine Daisy having slivers of barely-there memories of her parents in ten years. So instead of staying quiet, she tried a new approach: "Next time you feel this way," she told her daughter. "I want you to do this."

And she pulled out a journal from Daisy's nightstand drawer and three albums of pictures. "Read what I've written for you," she asked her to do. The pages of the journal were filled with answers to questions Daisy had asked about her parents, and Spencer had tried to give the best description she could. "And remind yourself that you'll never forget their faces because they're right here." She patted the stack of albums, one being of time before Daisy and the other two being of Daisy and family. "Never allow yourself to slip into this when they're right here in front of you."

Sniffling, Daisy nodded her head in obedience to Spencer's suggestion. "Thank you," she muttered, unsure of what else to say.

"You're welcome. Now, would you like some pads?" Daisy laughed and Spencer smiled, glad that she'd done something right for the little girl she'd taken in.

…

High school was rougher than Spencer imagined it would be. Daisy was a sweet girl, Keenan was a nice guy, and both were smart and knowledgeable in manners and rights and wrongs. Yet Daisy kept going out with boys, so many of them that Spencer had to make a list just to keep track of who was who. As it turned out, Daisy was great at making friends, male and female. Spencer and Toby only cared about those who were in the romantic interest department. First it was James, then David, then Gerald. Keenan, the protective brother he was, kept Spencer and Toby informed. And even though Daisy wasn't drinking or smoking or having sex, Spencer had to pull her aside and give her a talk on high school romance.

"Some people are lucky," she began her speech, "and they meet that person they want to spend the rest of their lives with in high school. I was lucky in that sense, and so was your mother. But most of the time they waste time, take people away from what's important, and don't even last in the end…"

"I know," Daisy interrupted Spencer. "I… I broke up with Damon today. I've decided that high school romance isn't really my thing anyway."

"Oh." Spencer was surprised how easy that was, and then inwardly questioned who Damon was. "Good, good… One more question, though… There's no…_older _boys, right?"

Daisy raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Um…no."

"Also good, yeah… No teachers?"

Now Daisy was very confounded, her eyes narrowing down to slits. "I never thought that was an option."

Spencer patted her hand. "Good." Then she asked for Daisy's journal about her parents and wrote a long, long story explaining why she had asked her that question in the first place.

Life was pretty normal in the Cavanaugh house. Daisy competed in gymnastics, studied French and creative writing, and did well in her classes despite some struggling in math and science; Keenan quit baseball to learn guitar and join a band just for leisure, participated in yearbook to see if photography might be a hobby, and tutored Daisy when she struggled. Despite never struggling with anything it seemed, Keenan had a lot more trouble deciding what he wanted to do, while Daisy had always known from the bat. "Just her genetics," Spencer had told Keenan because sometimes he was jealous of Daisy's certainty of life.

Both decided to get involved in the school play doing backstage crew and it bonded them very well. Spencer was reminded of a joke Aria had said years ago, when they'd both been pregnant around the same time, that their kids would be perfect together. Well, now that wasn't happening, but who knew, maybe when Daisy left their custody it might happen. After all, they weren't related by blood at all.

To quote _Harry Potter_, all was well.

…

It was true that Daisy hadn't looked at her baby stuff in years and didn't look at it until the day she was graduating high school.

A baby blanket, a plush pig, beaten books and word flashcards. She had no idea why one day when she was ten she decided to stuff all of this in a closet.

Reaching deep into the depths of the closet, tears pricking at her eyes, she stumbled upon something she'd forgotten about: a silver locket. She'd worn it for as long as she could remember until she was five and, after moving into this room, threw the locket in a fit into the closet and never looked for it again. She couldn't remember what she was angry about; probably something to do with the seven stages of grief. But she remembered the comfort it brought her and how she refused to open it in fear of falling down and never getting back up.

Now she cracked it open and the tears fell. All it contained was a baby picture and a photo of her parents, yet that was enough to feel like a knife had stabbed her through the back. Her thumb grazed the corner gently, and it hit her why the locket put her in so much pain as a kid: it was a reminder of what she had lost.

She wasn't sure why the locket held so much power over her versus the picture albums, but she wasn't going to let it hurt her anymore. Yes, there was a life she could have had, a different life with her biological parents and a brother (Spencer had told her when she fourteen) and a home in New York. There wouldn't be underlying pain when she would visit her grandparents. She didn't even know her parents long enough to know what they would say to her when she started her period, or started dating, or started high school. Probably the usual stuff, she thought. The stereotypical parental advice.

But Spencer reassured her that that was far from the truth.

"You should wear that," Spencer said as she came up behind her daughter and placed her hand on her shoulder.

The tearful eighteen-year-old smiled with one corner of her mouth turned up and nodded. "I am."

"They'd be so proud of you," Spencer croaked as Daisy slipped the locket around her neck. "Just as proud as Toby and I am of you and Keenan."

Daisy pulled Spencer into an unexpected hug. "I know," she whispered. "You don't have to tell me."

Spencer pulled away and neither could stop the emotional feelings that would be experienced that day. Even Toby, who always tried to be stoic, teared up while putting on his best suit this morning in preparation for his children's graduation. What had happened to the newborn they'd visited in a New York hospital eighteen years ago, and to the four-year-old girl they'd picked up from the same hospital after a tragic accident? She was standing right in front of her yet Spencer couldn't recognize her, and a chill went down her spine by how much it was like looking at a reflection of Aria.

Toby called from downstairs that it was time to leave and Keenan appeared at the doorway in a tuxedo, telling them to hurry up, followed by twelve-year-old Marianne, also telling them to hurry up. Daisy's time in the house was ending and she pulled herself together, and broke away from Spencer and moved towards the door.

"And thank you for being the parents I always wanted," she quickly added and walked out, leaving Spencer with a satisfied, bittersweet smile on her face.


End file.
